


The Jackal Effect

by WhiskyInMind (MomentsLost)



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Leverage
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-04-07
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:22:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MomentsLost/pseuds/WhiskyInMind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Faith thinks the past is done she finds some things aren't so easy to leave behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Keep track of your belongings. Never let anything precious out of your sight. It's something that got drummed into her head almost before she could walk. Anything you don't keep hold of is gone forever.

Not that she had much to keep hold of - how was it that crazy fake Watcher bitch put it? Spartan. That was her life, Spartan. Nothing to lose and, for the longest time, nothing worth holding onto.

These days it was more convenience that kept her possessions light - jeans, a few shirts, a handful of stakes and good boots. Anything else she needed she could usually get with a wink or by partaking in a little five-finger-discount. Not that she would do that of course, or at least, not so far as the Council were concerned. Old habits were hard to break after all, and there were far worse things on her conscience.

No, Faith was definitely not a material girl, so when the latest information packet from the Council arrived containing - of all things - an auction house catalogue marked "you might find this interesting"; she had to wonder what the hell they were smoking in the dusty corridors of the Mother House. Bored already, she flicked through pages and pages of crappy furniture and ludicrous jewellery with suggested prices high enough to reaffirm her opinion that anyone buying these things had more money than sense, then she got to the back. To the 'special event' section. Weaponry.

Now _this_ was more like it.

Faith sat up straight and began to pay attention to what she was looking at. Standard medieval European swords and battle-axes; decent enough in their way and good for non-Slayers because usually the business end was going on a good distance from their bodies. Faith, on the other hand, preferred things up close and personal. That attitude tended to get her into trouble more often than she liked, but part of her felt like she owed it to those she fought - to look them in the eyes as they died. As she killed them. It was like… respect. In a way.

She flicked past some showy Oriental weaponry that, if the prices were anything to go by, was pretty popular. Katanas and Tantos allegedly from Japan, even though she was pretty sure none of them had come from anywhere more exotic than the Pittsburgh area. One page left: Miscellany. A ten-dollar word only auction houses and librarians used.

She stopped breathing.

The weight of the perfectly balanced blade, the dark gleam of the oiled metal, the smell of it… all came rushing back as she looked at impossible picture in the catalogue.

 _It's a thing of beauty boss._

~@~@~@~@~

He feels a little awkward and, truth be told, a little _lonely_ walking into the rooms without voices in his ear telling him how to stand, who to approach, what to say, how to do his job. Hell, sometimes it's like they forget he had a pretty damn successful career before he even heard of any of them. Eliot's fine on his own. More than fine. He's on top of his game.

He doesn't need back up.

This is what he's good at; he's not just the muscle, not just the 'hitter'. He's a retrieval specialist. He finds things others don’t want found and he gets them where he's paid to take them.

And okay, so maybe he does feel a little awkward pretending to be someone he's not, and yeah so the technology still makes his head ache from time to time, and it would be so much easier just to smash-and-grab without all this planning, but dammit, this is what he does and he's good at it.

He's fine on his own.

He doesn't need them.

He might allow himself to acknowledge that, okay, so maybe he might _miss_ them. But he doesn’t _need_ them.

He's fine on his own.

He's fine.

~@~@~@~@~

Faith shifts uncomfortably in the seat that probably cost more than three months rent on the shitty apartment she's leased even with its view of the Charles River (visible only a good day, if she squints and uses her imagination) and wonders if anyone else feels as out of place as she does right now.

Almost on cue she sees a guy walk in who pretty much fits that description. He's looking round in a weird mix of someone who's not used to used being in this kinda place, but on the other hand is all too familiar with it. It's not this strange dichotomy that catches her eye though. It's his stance. This guy's a soldier, one way or the other. Even with the non-regulation hair. He moves from the open doorway quickly to make sure his six isn't exposed and scans the room, no doubt compiling a list of threats and available exits. He's poised, light on his feet, keeping his centre of gravity low enough that she's pretty sure even she would have trouble taking him down. Well, at least with her first hit anyway.

She tracks her eyes over him, his stance, his muscled arms, his obvious situational awareness, and she thinks maybe this is one guy who could actually take a Slayer in a fight. Not a fully trained Slayer, of course, but a noob? Absolutely.

Another thing she's known since forever but forgotten all too often is that when you're watching someone, you in turn are being watched. His eyes meet hers with a guarded look and she glances away, a blush forming on her cheeks. Caught. Dammit.

And since when did she blush?!

Knowing she'll regret it, she glances back to check his reaction. The bastard's smirking. At her.

Faith fights against the urge to spring forward and wipe that smirk off his face. Instead she stands slowly, walks to the end of the row and arches her back against the ridiculous pillar there, she tosses her hair back over her shoulder, and stretches her arms high above her head in an exaggerated yawn. If he's gonna watch her, she might as well give him something to watch.

She's quick to hide her own smirk as he heads in her direction, but she's more than a little surprised (and perhaps just a little disappointed) when he stops halfway between her and the door, out of her sightline. And doesn't that just set all the rest of the alarm bells ringing in her head? He's seen her - not just seen her, he's checked her out pretty damn thoroughly - and there's no way she can get the jump on him if anything kicks off. Or at least, not without a little supernatural help…

~@~@~@~@~

Eliot notices her the moment he enters the room. How could he not? Even If he wasn't on the job there's something about her that demands attention. But, despite what certain irritating keyboard monkeys might think, he doesn't let himself get distracted by women, even when they're as hot as this one is. Well, not often. Not lately anyway. Okay, so maybe _occasionally_ it's been an issue. But not today…

He catches himself heading towards her and checks his step, stopping six feet from her and steps back to keep her in front of him - not that he's checking out the view or anything, she just happens to be in the direction he's looking while he cases the rooms.

And okay, so maybe he does look over at her more often than he probably should, but there's definitely something about her that's set off an alert in his head. And it _is_ in his head, despite what other parts of his anatomy might have to say on the matter.

It's around twenty minutes later, when he's catalogued the security arrangements and come to the conclusion that a smash and grab later that night actually _is_ going to be the best plan, that she makes her move.

~@~@~@~@~

He's still watching her. Faith can feel it every time he looks in her direction and for some reason it's making her antsy. She's been on edge ever since that damn catalogue appeared with the weight of the past buried away on page sixty-seven. Like it doesn't matter. Like it's nothing.

She's not even sure why she's here. Maybe it should be left in the past, but it's calling to her.

Maybe the only way to leave it in the past is to face it. Pick up that knife again and, this time, put it down and leave it there.

Even so she's starting to think this whole thing is a huge mistake. The blade's not precious to her, anything but. It's the symbol of everything she's been fighting against all these years; every wrong she's ever done; every mistake she's ever made.

Every innocent she's ever killed.

And yet… it's almost like it has some kind of power over her still.

The skin on the back of her neck feels like it's crawling and she doesn't think it's just down to _him_ watching her. But… she's not sure, and damn if that isn’t the most frustrating thing ever.

She's just about decided enough is enough and it's time to get the hell out of here when suddenly she knows she can't leave.

It's like a tunnel vision descending over her. Nothing else matters except that dark blade resting in some absurd display box. Don't they understand they can't chain it down like that? Can't they hear it crying out? Demanding to be free to wreak havoc? To fulfil its purpose?

She twitches, part of her wants to push her way across the room and grab it. She can almost _see_ herself doing it. And then she feels a hand on her arm trying to pull her back. She whirls, a snarl on her lips.

It's him.


	2. Chapter 2

~@~@~@~@~

What is it with him and the crazy ones?

He sees her scanning the room and then suddenly she's like a coiled spring on the verge of release and he's moving to stop her before she does something… well… crazy.

At least now he knows exactly why his attention had kept going back to her, and he takes a moment to think that maybe he's grown as a person. She's clearly been planning this all along and the last thing he needs is any kind of _official_ attention on the auction house until he's done here. And dammit if it doesn't look like she's trying to lift the very item he was here for.

Eliot hasn't spotted any signs of another team, and the careless way she's acting makes him pretty sure she was acting alone. And, he realises as the previously bored security guards look over in her - now _their_ \- direction, she's also acting without any semblance of a plan for getting out.

He puts his hand on her elbow to hold her back and guide her away - or at least that's the plan. She pulls her arm away so violently he comes ridiculously close to losing his balance and he doesn't rock back from the expression on her face, honest, because that would be ridiculous. He will admit that maybe it throws him for a split-second, that sheer venom is something he's only ever seen in a person's eyes once before, and that was a crazed Pol Pot wannabe in the jungles in Cambodia after Eliot had tracked him to his base camp and burned it to the ground.

It's not an expression he'd ever expected to see in a respectable Boston auction house.

He holds his hands up to placate her, and is a little surprised to register just how relieved he is when the animalistic look on her face fades and is replaced with honest confusion. It's almost like she's been in some kind of a trance and he realises that she's been so focused on her goal that she'd tuned everything else out.

Not a professional then.

One of the security guards seems slightly more on the ball than Eliot would like and looks like he's about to head over towards them, so Eliot makes an on-the-spot decision and steps closer to this strange woman. She doesn't pull away and he can tell she's noticed the situation escalating. He's never been particularly at ease with the whole play-acting part of the grift, but he thinks Sophie might just be a little proud of him when he slips his arm around the woman's waist just like a partner would, and turns them both towards the exit.

~@~@~@~@~

 

Faith blinks. What the hell happened there? She doesn't lose control like that. Not anymore. She can't afford to.

But… she had. She can't pretend she hadn't. And she can't let herself think about what would have happened if this guy hadn't distracted her and snapped her back to the here-and-now.

It’s like there's a cloud of cotton candy where her brain should be; she can’t think straight, can't focus. And when the guy steps right into her personal space she lets him and allows him to walk her out of the place. She needs to get out of here, needs to get away.

The moment they pass through the auction room door it's like her brain snaps back into focus and she pulls away from his light grip on her waist and turns to confront him.  
"Easy," he says in a low voice. "Cameras." He tilts his head a little to one side and she doesn't have to look to know he's right.

Knowing how it must look to anyone watching she figures what the hell and slaps him across the face, remembering to pull the weight behind it. No point sending him through the wall before she even knows his name.  
"How could you?!" She snaps before turning and honest-to-god flouncing down the stairs and onto the street and out of view of the security, playing the role of pissed off girlfriend to the best of her ability. If he follows her so be it, she'd love to know why he decided to pull her out of a potentially nasty situation, but right now getting her head straight has to be her number one priority.

She's barely made it three steps when she sees the police cars turning into the street, and even though she knows it makes her look ten shades of guilty she falters. Starts to turn to walk away before she realises there are sirens sounding from behind her. They're coming that way too.

She's cornered.

There's some seriously messed up shit going on here, so far as she knows nothing happened that would bring out the Boston PD in force like this, a minor domestic in the lobby of an auction house wouldn't do it. A tip off that an escaped fugitive with various outstanding warrants would be there, on the other hand…

"It's a set up." She doesn't realize she'd said it aloud until there's an answer from her shoulder.  
"Looks like." She knows it's him from the voice but she's still a little startled. Her mind starts to race: could he be the one who tipped off the cops? Getting her out of the rooms before anything kicked off didn't make sense if he was; catching her red-handed stealing something would more than justify an arrest. Besides, she's not picking up any animosity from him. Curiosity, sure, but then that's going both ways right now. No. She decides he's not the one behind the set up and right now he's standing right with her as the cops pile out of their cars and head towards them.  
"Any ideas?" She asks out of the corner of her mouth.  
"Just one." He says putting his hand on her shoulder and turning her to face him.

He steps back into the shade of the ridiculous awning over the auction house's entrance, taking her with him. His hands come up to hold her face gently and before she registers what's happening, he pulls her into a kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

She _almost_ hauled off and hit him - again - before the pounding footsteps passed them and she realized what he was doing. Sure enough, the moment she heard the soft click of the auction house door closing he stepped back and she was a little amused to see the wariness in his eyes.  
"This would be the part where we clear out before they figure it out, right?" She said flashing him a small smile that she hoped didn't look as shaky as it felt.  
"Yup. Walk, don't run." He said and she rolled her eyes.  
"Honey, this ain't my first rodeo."  
"Yeah, I could tell. Nice exit strategy, by the way. " He shot back, but there was no fire in his tone and she let him put his arm around her waist once more as they started away, losing themselves in the growing crowd of spectators.

Faith managed to reign in her curiosity for a full ten minutes, during which time they made so many random turns into side streets and changes of direction that she could almost believe he was trying to maze her. If so, he was in for a helluva surprise - she'd always had an above average sense of direction and the added situational awareness her calling had given only helped her. Besides, this was her back yard.

Finally her patience ran out and she stopped at the next corner and crossed her arms.  
"So, what do you want?"  
His hand twitched and she wondered if he was going to try to grab her and drag her along to wherever he was heading, but the moment past almost before it registered and he crossed his own arms across his chest, mirroring her own stance.  
"Could ask you the same question." He said.  
"Me? What do I want? I want you to answer the question. Oh, and while you're at it, you could also tell me what the hell happened back there and - and this is the kicker so don't skip it - who you are."  
He smirked. Honest to God smirked at her and Faith had to fight down the spark of anger that took her by surprise. "It was you, wasn't it? You did something to me. What was it? A spe- a drug? Man, did you ever pick the wrong girl to roofie."  
He held his hands up in a placating gesture and it was only then that she realized her own hands had been bunching into fists.  
“Hey,” he said, “Not my style sweetheart. And as for that other thing? Magic ain’t my thing either.”  
“Magic?” She tried to bluff her way out of that one, knowing full well she was already busted. “Who said anything about...?” She gave up before she could dig herself into an even deeper hole. “Okay, okay... but that still doesn’t explain what happened or who the hell you are.”  
“Look, sweetheart,” he said, “I’d be happy to tell you what I can but how about we take it off the street?”  
She tilted her head to one side, trying to gauge if he was leading her into a trap. She didn’t think he was but how could she be sure since something’d been screwing with her all day. Finally she made up her mind, trusting that she could handle anything that might happen. Probably. Maybe.  
“Your place or mine?”

~@~@~@~@~

 

Nate glanced over to where Parker was trying - in vain apparently - to show Hardison how to play darts. The hacker seemed to have absolutely no sense of direction and Nate noticed the rest of the bar's patrons were leaving a wide circle around the pair apparently because of the wildly unpredictable rebounds and downright misses. He found himself smiling a little at the kids - and part of him did think of them as kids - pleased that they had found something relatively normal to do for once.

He settled back into the booth, rested his arm on the back of the worn leather bench and took another sip of coffee. Maybe it wasn't such a mistake spending time down here after all - his adopted family gathered here and he honestly couldn't think right now of any place else he'd rather be.  
"What's on your mind, Nate?" Sophie was watching him curiously having abandoned the latest issue of Variety in disgust on the table between them.  
"Hmm? Sorry, what?" He said, "Nothing. Just thinking how good it is for all of us to be here without someone trying to arrest us or kill us for once."  
"Not quite all of us, but I know what you mean." Sophie replied with one of her patented wistful smiles - the kind he still wasn't one hundred percent sure were genuine.  
"Yes, where is Eliot anyway?"  
Sophie shrugged. "He said he had something to do today but he'd be around later if we needed him for anything."  
Nate nodded. "He's probably got a date or something." A cheer from the bar caused him to look up to see Hardison grinning like a lunatic - apparently one of his wildly flung darts had actually hit the board. Nate smirked a little as the young man used the opportunity to steal a hug from the little blonde beside him. That particular situation would inevitably lead to trouble down the road, but they were both grown ups and it was probably a lot healthier than the countless one-night stands their hitter persisted in indulging in.

Right on queue there was Eliot holding the door open for an attractive brunette - one thing to be said about the man, he knew how to turn on the charm. Eliot scanned the room quickly and spotted Nate who nodded at him, expecting him to lead his date to one of the empty tables near the door and he was more than a little surprised when the hitter headed straight for his booth.  
"Eliot," he said.  
"So that's your name, was that so difficult?" The girl with him said with a tight smile that did nothing to hide the wariness in her eyes. Not a date then, probably. "I'm Faith, wanna tell me what's going on here? Your boy here's being kinda tight-lipped."  
Nate could see Eliot's jaw clenching just a little at the jibe and waited for even the slightest hint as to what this was about.  
"'Faith' here got in the way of a... project no one else should have been in on. Seems like it's blown up a little and I..." Eliot paused just for a fraction before saying, "I could use some help finishing it."

Something about the way he'd said the girl's name tipped Nate off that it wasn't just Eliot who was being tight-lipped about things. And none of this was explaining just what was actually going on. Sometimes Eliot could be so damned hardheaded that Nate wanted to throttle him.  
Sophie had been glancing between the two men and apparently picked up on the growing tension so turned to the girl and said, "Faith, was it? Nice to meet you, I'm Sophie. Can I get you a drink or something?"  
Faith snorted, "Why, so you can slip another mickey in it? I'll pass."  
The look of shock on Sophie's face was only there for a second before her carefully maintained mask was back. "Well, at least take a seat won't you?"  
Instead of sliding into the booth, Faith grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table and swung it round to sit facing the door.  
Nate forced himself to take a deep breath and stood. "Eliot? " he said as he walked towards the back room; trusting the hitter would be right behind him.

"Did you drug her?" Nate didn’t think the younger man would do such a thing but there was a lot about Eliot that they still didn’t know.  
"What? Jeez, no! Why would... No!" Unless Eliot was a better grifter than Sophie, the surprise in his tone convinced Nate he was telling the truth.  
"Ok, I believe you," he said. "But she clearly thinks you did - so what happened? Where did you meet her? What were you doing?"  
"At Skinners' Auction House. Faith was there and... something happened."  
"What were you doing there? Wait, were you were on a job?" Nate asked, not even trying to keep the surprise from his voice but hoping nonetheless that the hurt he was feeling wasn't showing. "Alone?"  
Eliot crossed his arms and leaned back against the doorpost. "Yeah, I was on a job. Why? You got a problem with that?"  
"Why didn't you bring it to me?"  
"Hey," Eliot said, obviously biting back this annoyance. "I ain't a kid. I don't need your say-so."  
"No, I get that, but we could have helped-"  
"It was a simple job, I didn't need your help."  
"Clearly it wasn't that simple." Nate countered. "What were you after?"  
Eliot closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and Nate found himself wondering just how much the hitter was keeping from them. "A knife." he said  
"A knife." Nate repeated in a flat voice. "Really?"  
"A particular knife. It has... a history."  
"Eliot, what aren't you telling me? Why is this knife important? And just what's it got to do with that girl out there?"  
Eliot looked around, and Nate was aware that Sophie was watching them even as she tried to keep Faith distracted. Even Parker and Hardison seemed to have noticed something was going on.  
Not here." Eliot said. He left the bar heading for the stairs leading to the upstairs apartments.  
"Eliot!" Nate called after him, trying to get him to stop.  
"Not here." He repeated without turning around.

~@~@~@~@~

 

Over the last few years Faith had found she'd gotten pretty good at reading people and the Englishwoman currently trying to keep her attention away from the testosterone display/pissing contest going on in the other room only gave her a moment's pause. She was good, Faith had to acknowledge that, but she was also lying to Faith. The too-constant eye contact, the lean forward, the conspiratorial tone of voice as she - Sophie, that's what she'd called herself wasn't it? - made some inane comment about how she was sure they could get this whole thing sorted out and how had Faith met Eliot anyway...

Faith snorted a little and leaned back in her chair, tuning the woman out so she could listen in on the conversation she was obviously not supposed to hear. She was aware of a couple over near the bar watching her and figured they too were part of this weird team - just what kind of operation had she stumbled into here? - but she decided to make out she hadn't seen them. Let them think they had some advantage over her if that made them happy.

The two men made an abrupt exit - with Eliot taking the lead, she noticed - Faith leaned forwards mimicking Sophie's body language.  
"So tell me," she said sweetly. "Where are they going?"  
Sophie blinked rapidly. "Huh? Oh, don’t worry about them. They'll be back soon. Probably just stepping out for some fresh air or something."  
"Yeah right," Faith said with a snort of laughter. "Listen, long time ago a smart man told me something: 'Don't kid a kidder'. So how about you cut the crap and tell me where your base is?"  
A little to Faith's surprise, Sophie smiled back and raised her glass in a kind of salute before taking a sip and tilting her head to one side. "You're right. I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have tried to play you; you're understandably upset. I get that. I just want you to know you're safe here. Nate and Eliot will be back soon and we can get this sorted. Why don't you and I have that drink and you can tell me what happened."  
Faith shook her head, still smiling. "The 'shoulder to cry on' act won't work y'know. And if _you_ won't tell me, then maybe Blondie over there, or the studmuffin she's with, will." She let the smile drop from her face. "Or I could tear this whole place apart until I find them. And trust me, the way my day's going right now, that last option's currently my favorite."  
Sophie narrowed her eyes, assessing Faith, trying to see if she was serious no doubt. Problem was: Faith wasn't so sure it was an idle threat herself. "Look," she continued. "No offence, I'm sure you're all having fun here with your whole... whatever the hell it is you do here. But some _unbelievably_ weird shit went down today that I need to deal with. Seems like your man Eliot knows something about it and you obviously don't. So tell me where he is.

Finally Sophie nodded once to the pair on the other side of the room and put her hand to her ear. "Nate?" she said, and somehow Faith wasn't all that surprised to realize they were working with some kind of comm devices. "We're coming up. Faith wants to... talk."

 

~@~@~@~@~

 

As Sophie led her up to the second floor, Faith wondered for what felt like the millionth time just what she'd gotten herself into here. Before she opened the door, the Englishwoman stopped for a moment and took a breath. "Faith," she said. "You're right, I don't know what's going on, but Eliot wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't think we could help you. We do want to help you figure this out."  
There was something about the woman's voice that made Faith think that for the first time since she'd introduced herself she was telling the truth. She nodded an acknowledgement and Sophie gave her a fleeting smile as she opened the door.

Faith blinked a little, as she walked in. She wasn't completely sure what she'd been expecting but this wasn't it. Six giant flat screen monitors dominated one wall and the way the rest of the furniture was positioned made her think this was definitely more of a working space than an apartment, but then she could see the odd sign of domestication that showed someone lived here despite that. Nate was doing that same talking while holding his ear thing she'd seen Sophie do downstairs.  
"Yeah, Hardison." He was saying. "I need you up here to do some researching." He paused, obviously listening to the other side of the conversation and Faith wondered which one Hardison was - the blonde or the overgrown kid - and made a tiny bet with herself it was the guy. He'd seemed a little on the geeky side. "I don't care what she called you." Nate replied and she smirked, she'd been right. "No, I don't. Get up here." He sounded exasperated as he turned towards the two newcomers.

Nate took a step towards them with a worried smile on his face. "Faith," he said. "Eliot's explained things to me and I think we can help each other out if we -"  
"He explained things?" She interrupted. "He feel like sharing some of that with me?" Faith nodded towards Eliot was standing at the window talking quietly on a cell phone and apparently not paying any attention to what was going on.  
The man actually started fidgeting and she found herself thinking there was no way any of these people were going to be able to help her figure it out. "He's, um. He's talking to his contact. The one who sent him to Skinners' today. Maybe this can wait until he's done."

Eliot was walking towards them. "You got it, man." he said and took the phone from his ear. He didn't hang up the call; instead he held it out to her. "He wants to talk to you."  
Faith frowned at him as she took the proffered handset. "Who the hell is this?" she snapped into the receiver.  
 _"Faith, what are you doing in Boston? You weren't supposed to be in Boston!"_  
She blinked.  
"Xander?!"


	4. Chapter 4

"Xander?" Faith was losing count of the number of times this day was going to throw her curve-balls. "What the hell is going on here?" She demanded.  
 _"More than you know. Hang tight, I'll be there soon."_  
"You're coming here? To Boston?"  
 _"That I am. You gotta promise me something, Faith: don't do **anything** 'till I get there and try to explain things."_  
"Hey, you know me."  
 _"Yes. I do. Please?"_  
The please threw her for a second, she wasn't sure if she'd expected him to try to order her to stand down. Asking her like this drove home how serious he was. "You know this guy?"  
 _"Eliot? Yeah. I know him."_ Xander's voice was surprisingly flat. Clearly there was a lot more to _that_ particular story. But hey, not the priority right now, she reminded herself. _"Listen, he's good people. Even if he's not exactly… a good guy. Legally speaking. Per se. Look, this would be so much easier to tell you face to face."_  
"Can he be trusted?"  
 _"D'you mean, can you trust him?"_  
"Yeah."  
 _"Do you trust me?"_ There was a time - not too long ago - when that would be a loaded question, but that was all in the past.  
"Yes."  
 _" I trust him."_  
"Good enough. And hey, you got an explanation for this wackiness then I'm all ears. Just get your ass here soon so's I can find out whose ass I need to kick."  
 _"Just this once I can confidently say it isn't mine."_  
"Wouldn't be too sure about that, stud."  
His gulp was audible over the call - man, she loved these new smart phones.  
"Xander?"  
 _"Yeah?_  
"Get here safe."  
 _"Aw, I didn't know you cared."_  
"Ha! I don't, I just figure I got enough paperwork to deal with here."  
 _"Yeah, yeah. You can't fool me. You're worried about me."_  
Faith snorted a laugh and hung up before whispering, "Always."

She turned to hand the phone back and found the entire crew seated at some of work counter facing away from her and looking up at the giant monitors. On them were displayed the online catalogue for the auction house, and what looked a lot like blueprints for the building. Faith's breath caught as the young guy - Hardison, she thought his name was - brought up the entry for the knife. Seeing it there on the screen, oh-so-much larger than life, brought all those memories flooding back. The feel of it in her hand; the weight; the loss as she'd been forced to leave it behind; the silver pain as it sliced into her…

Faith was dimly aware that the fugue state that had caused this whole thing was threatening to take over again. She could feel her hands clench into fists and she was getting ready to bolt for the door when the screens went abruptly blank and the older guy - Nate - spoke up.  
"Everyone clear on the plan?" The group around him nodded their acknowledgment and Faith could feel her heartbeat start to return to normal. "Good. Let's go steal a knife then."

Faith could see Eliot's eyes narrowing as he stood and looked towards her. She forced herself to relax and met his stare calmly. "So what, you're all like thieves or something?" she asked.  
"It's a bit more complicated than that-" Eliot began.  
"Not something like, silly. We *are* thieves," the blonde said brightly - Parker, Faith remembered.  
"Okay then…" she said slowly. "And you're going to steal the kn… the knife?" The thought of someone other than her getting their hands on it made her stammer.  
"And bring it back here." Nate confirmed.

That loosened the tension she was feeling a little. They'd bring it here and she could take it from them. Thieves they may be, but there was no way they could stop her. And if they tried? Well she didn't need a knife in her hand to put them down. Even with the five-to-one odds, the only one who looked even remotely like a threat was Eliot, and she knew ways she could have him out cold without even breaking a sweat.… She started away from that thought. She couldn't really have considered that, could she? Even for the briefest of moments, that's not who she was. Not any more.

She blinked the thoughts away and said, "Ok, count me in. What do you need me to do?"   
"Sit tight," Eliot said, "for now." She didn't miss the hint of anger in his eyes as he flicked a quick glance at Nate.  
"Look, I don't know what you’ve got planned; but you're not cutting me out."  
Nate held up his hands in what he probably thought of as a placatory way but which right now had Faith itching to smack him upside the head. "No one's planning on cutting anyone out. Trust me; we know what we're doing."  
"And they saw you," Parker shrugged at her as if that was all that needed to be said.  
"Well? If they saw me, then they sure as hell saw _him_." Faith snapped, pointing at Eliot who, she now realized, hadn't moved to the door with the rest.  
"And that's why Eliot's going to be staying here too." Nate's voice was level but he seemed to be studiously avoiding looking at the other man. At least that explained the barely controlled anger she could feel radiating from Eliot. It was pretty clear nothing she could do - short of violence - would change the status quo, and the truth was she had promised not to do anything. Yet.  
"Wait," she said. "You're going right _now_?"  
"Strike while the iron's hot," Sophie said.  
"But…" Faith stopped. She'd promised Xander she wouldn't do anything 'till he got here. But then… _she_ wasn't doing anything… She tried to stop the thought, knowing it would come back to bite her - it always did, but it was out there before she knew it: what could possibly go wrong?

***

Eliot watched her a little warily. From what Harris had told him - which hadn't been much, typical of the boy - she was under some weird mojo that was screwing with her. So long as she was here out of the way, and away from that knife, she would be fine. But he hadn't missed that little… moment she'd had during the briefing. He'd been ready to take her down, if he'd needed to, even if he wasn't one hundred per cent sure he could have stopped her. Point was though, he shouldn't have had to. Not here.

She was keeping her back to him and he figured she was taking her time, trying to claw back some control. He felt for her, he really did. His own limited experience with the whole supernatural side of things had thrown him more than a few curveballs, but for someone like her, someone used to it, to lose it like this? Maybe he should cut her some slack.  
"So, you and Harris, huh?" he asked, wondering just why that seemed important.  
"Huh?" She turned and gave him one of the oldest looks he'd seen in a long time. "Xander and me? Nah, I burned that particular bridge a long time ago. We're just… us." Eliot didn't want to acknowledge the relief he felt at that. He told himself that getting involved with a Slayer was so far beyond a mistake that it almost came round to being a good idea. Almost. "What about you?"  
The snort of laughter was out before he could stop it. "Me and Harris? Yeah right."  
She flashed a quick grin. "Hey, you could do worse."  
"Not my scene, sweetheart."  
"Kinda figured as much." Was it his imagination or did her grin get just a little warmer? Bad idea. But maybe… "So how _do_ you know him?" she continued.

>  _Jameson Diamond Mine, Peoples Republic of N'djare. Some time ago.  
>  Eliot was thrown back against the wall. Hard. He managed to get his arm up just in time to block the thrown punch, but the force of the relentless attack was driving him to the ground.   
> He shook his head, trying to clear the blackness creeping into the edges of his vision. He couldn't be seeing this. His attacker was just a kid, a scrawny pre-pubescent girl, but she had him beaten. He tried to push himself to his feet, tried to block the next punch, but he knew there was no way.   
> She was raining blows onto him and then her face just _changed_. He had no way of describing it. Her mouth was open - and a small part of his recognized there was some seriously messed up dental work there - as she lunged towards him again he realized she was going to bite…  
>  And then she was just… gone. He blinked against the sudden shower of dust that was settling on him and knew he must have taken one too many blows to the head. There was no way an eye-patch wearing pirate holding a sharp stick was leaning over him with a worried look on his face.   
> No way in hell._

"Met a few years back. In Africa." He put as much censure in his tone as he figured he could get away with. It wasn't something like he liked to talk about.  
Faith nodded, seeming to accept that. He wondered just how much Harris had shared with her about what had gone on in the mines, but dismissed it from his mind. Whatever the kid had said about then, what mattered was what he'd said about now. _"Don't let her get too close to the knife. There's some kind of spell on it and she won't be able to stop it. Neither will you."_  
"And you're, what, doing him a favor?"  
Eliot shrugged and moved over to the kitchen. "I'm good at finding things; sometimes I find them for him. Coffee?"  
She followed him and perched on the countertop. "Yeah, black and strong as you can make it."  
Maybe giving her caffeine wasn't the best idea, but what the hell, they had time to kill and it gave him something to do for now.

***

Eliot heard the voices coming along the corridor outside. The team was back earlier than he'd expected - no doubt he had a fair amount of teasing coming his way at how easy it had been for them. And yeah, so maybe he should have taken this to them, but he'd kept everyone away from this part of his world for so long it was ingrained. The door opened and Parker came through with a triumphant grin and the knife in her hand.

He was watching for it. Truth be told he'd _been_ watching for it since he'd heard them return. But still, he almost missed it.

Faith was so _fast_.

One second she was curled up on Nate's couch like a contended cat; next second she had that damned knife to Parker's throat and backing out the door.

Eliot didn't think, he reacted, but even so, he knew he was outmatched. Knew he was going to lose this fight.

Not important. Getting her away from Parker - keeping the team safe - that was what mattered.

He came at her from the side, using his shoulder to charge into her with enough force to take her down. As they connected he reached out and *twisted* her knife hand away, hoping like hell Parker was quick enough to take the out.

He hit the ground hard but used the momentum to roll back to his feet, putting himself between her and the others. Faith's legs scythed out quicker than he would have thought possible and brought him crashing back down to the ground. She lunged for him and he just managed to bring his arm up to protect himself as she straddled him and stabbed the blade down straight for his face.

Eliot grabbed her wrist again, grimacing as he felt the blade slash across his forearm. It was like burning ice but he could tell it wasn't too deep, he'd somehow managed to deflect it enough to prevent any serious injury, but the blood dripping down into his eyes was going to blind him if he didn't manage to get her off him. He twisted his grip and managed to break her hold, the knife skittered down to the floor beside him and he could have sworn he felt the chill of the steel on his neck as it landed.

Faith's eyes flashed with _something_ and he became aware of the noise coming from behind him. The fight had taken seconds, and only now were the others reacting. She had him pinned and he knew whatever they were going to do was going to be too late for them. He willed them to do the smart thing and _run_ while they still could.

A punch connected with the side of his head, making him see stars and as he saw her draw her fist back again he knew this was the end.

 _"Dirigui!"_

Eliot tried to turn his head to see where the shout had come from but found himself frozen in place. As was Faith. There was an animal rage in her eyes as she struggled against whatever was holding her still, and then someone else moved into Eliot's eye-line. An eye-patch-wearing someone. Harris.

Wearing surgical gloves, Xander picked up the knife from where it lay and put it carefully into an ornate wooden box he seemed to have brought with him. The moment he closed the lid the fire vanished from Faith's eyes to be replaced by a look of abject horror.

"Uh, Xander?" Eliot said, "Little help here?"  
"Huh? Oh, right the freezing spell thingy. Yeah. Thing is, I can't undo it."  
"What?!" Eliot could only imagine what this looked like to everyone else - he was beaten, lying on the floor with a woman half his size straddling him with her fist raised. Not a picture he wanted them to keep in the family album. Or ever mention again.  
"Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. It'll wear off though."  
"How long?"  
"Five minutes, give or take. I think"  
"You think?!" Eliot closed his eyes. This was why he tried to keep this part of his life away from the team - he had no control over the situation. He was stuck here and anything could be happening to the rest of them… What if they needed him?  
"You'd be Mr Harris? Nate Ford, pleased to meet you." Or they could be settling in for tea and scones until the whammy thawed out. Typical. He listened incredulously as they moved into the apartment, leaving him and Faith trapped – for now - just inside the doorway. Eliot had to admit, though, there were worse situations he could have been in.

***

Faith could do nothing but listen as Xander explained to these strangers what had happened to her. Somehow she wasn’t surprised to learn it all went back to Wilkins. His shadow had stretched over her life from the day she walked into his office so to find it coming back to haunt her all these years later was something she should have expected.

She’d looked up to him. So maybe he wasn’t the best role model, what with the killing and all the evil, but he’d been good to her. He’d treated her like family. He’d made her feel like she mattered.

And now it turned out that that was all a lie? That he’d done something to the knife to bind her will to him?

She felt her whole grasp of reality fall away. She had no control. She had never had any. Nothing she did mattered because the moment she let her guard down she became nothing more than a tool. Just a weapon.

Faith gradually became aware of a tingling in her limbs and she tensed herself, ready for what was coming. She’d only have a second, she’d just have to hope it was enough.

***

Before he expected it, Eliot realized he could move again. Of course, the only movement he was currently capable of was curling around the tight ball of pain he was left with after Faith’s knee connected squarely with his gut. Despite the agony, he figured he’d gotten off lightly, she could have connected a bit lower and he knew he’d be lucky to walk – or do other things – again.

The door slammed as he forced himself upright and he saw Xander running across the apartment. Faith had bolted.

***

Xander was starting to think this was a mistake. He was lost in a city he didn’t know, it was starting to get dark, and even if he did find Faith, what was he going to do? He was sure there wasn’t going to be a repeat of what had happened the first time he’d tried to reach out to her. She wasn’t going to hurt him. But she might just hurt herself.

Finally he made it down to the docks, knowing she’d steer clear of people he figured there was a good chance she’d be here. A rundown and seemingly abandoned warehouse a short distance from the others caught his eye and he wasn’t surprised to find the chain that had been keeping trespassers out lying broken on the ground. Swallowing past the lump in his throat he pushed the door open and slowly walked in.

"This is where it happened, you know." Xander turned towards the source of the voice and finally saw Faith sitting on the floor with her back against a worn strut. Her voice echoed hollowly. He took a couple of small steps towards her, noting as he did that she seemed to draw into herself the closer he got. He stopped.   
"Where what happened?" he asked, although he had a horrible feeling he already knew.  
"Bunch of us used to squat here, I know it's not much, but it kept the worst of the rain out." She turned her head and gestured towards a far corner of the long-abandoned warehouse. "That's where I used to crash. Then one night I skipped out on patrol and she came to read me the riot act, and that's where Kakistos caught up with her. She shouldn't have been here. She should have known better."  
"She was your Watcher, she was looking out for you." He said gently.  
Faith made a sound that was half laugh, half derisive snort. "She'd have been better not caring. She'd have lived longer anyway."  
"Hey," Xander said, crouching down and willing her to look at him. "You can't know that."  
"That's just it, I _do_ know that. And you know something? She was just the first. First in a long line of people who died because they made the mistake of caring about me." She finally looked up at him. "You know that; you were nearly one of them. You can't trust me. And don't try to tell me about all the good stuff I've done. It doesn't matter. None of it does. I can't change who I am. Look what happened today."  
"That wasn't you, that was the knife."  
"You think that makes a difference? It _was_ me. I did those things back then, and I nearly did them again today. Every single time it looks like I'm moving on, making up for it, it comes right back at me. It's never gonna get better. It’s never gonna end. I should be put down like a rabid dog."  
"Not gonna happen," he said, more than a little scared at just how defeated she sounded. How broken.  
"Hey, if you can't do it, I'm pretty sure your bodyguard's up to the job."  
Bodyguard? Xander glanced back over his shoulder and swore softly. Spencer. Xander stood and headed towards the other man, "What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.  
"I was worried." Eliot was looking over Xander's shoulder, watching Faith.  
"I can handle it!"  
"Wasn’t you I was worried about."  
"She… you… What?" Xander frowned, biting down the anger he was feeling. "What did you think I was going to do?"  
"Hell, you work for some messed up organization that screws with girls’ lives – what was I supposed to think?"  
"You were supposed to think that you _know_ me."  
"I know _you_. I don't know who you work for or what they're capable of. What they'd do? I have no idea. And y'know, everyone does things they're not proud of. Under orders." The censure was obvious and Xander knew this wasn't the time to revisit old arguments.  
"It's not like that," he said, grateful he could say that and knowing in his heart that it hadn't always been the case. Xander glanced across to Faith who hadn't moved a muscle. Seeing her so lost cut him to the core, but he knew he wasn't the one who could fix her. Not this time. The compassion in Eliot's eyes though, maybe _he_ could get through.  
"Be careful." Barely controlled anger flashed in Eliot's eyes and Xander held his hands up in surrender. "Hey, I don't think she… no, I _know_ she won't do anything that could hurt you. I'm just saying be careful _you_ don't hurt _her_. She's not as tough as she likes to make out."  
As he walked away, Xander couldn't help but wonder if he was making a huge mistake. He thought back. No, it wasn't a mistake. Eliot and Faith had a lot more in common than either of them probably knew. Both unbelievably broken, but hey, maybe they had enough crazy glue to fix each other. He shook his head in disgust. That was going to be such a profound thought, and then he had to think about crazy glue. Typical.

"So," Faith said quietly as Eliot sat down beside her.  
"So," he replied.  
"Y'know? Xander's a good guy, but there's something he keeps on forgetting." She raised her voice to just short of a shout. "Slayer's have _really_ good hearing!"  
"Ha! Just call me Dumbo, Lehane! I don't forget anything! No, wait! Make that Babar!" Harris's reply echoed around the warehouse and Eliot was glad to see a tiny smile flicker across Faith's face.  
"Yeah, he's not so good with people, is he?" He said.  
Faith sighed, "Oh, I don’t know. He gets me." She gave a little laugh. "He's one of the few who does."  
"Is that right." Eliot was careful how he phrased that, if she wanted it to be an invitation, well that was up to her.  
She waited for a while before speaking and he wondered just what she was thinking about before she said, "Yeah. It is." She shifted slightly, looked him straight in the eye. "He said he trusted you. That you're one of the good guys. Was he right?"  
Just how was he supposed to answer that? He met her forthright gaze and knew anything but the truth would push her over the precipice she was clinging to. Eliot took a deep breath. "Am I a good guy? No. But I'm tryin' to be better. You say Harris trusted me? The last thing I'd ever do is let him down. And I know he's lookin' out for you."  
"I coulda killed you." She nodded towards the gash along his forearm.  
He shrugged. "Takes a bit more than that to kill me."  
Faith watched him for a long time, searching for something. Eventually she seemed to find whatever it was and she nodded once. "Good enough," she said.  
He allowed himself a tight little smile as he stood, brushing dust from his jeans. Eliot looked down at her. "Coming?" he asked.  
She flashed her dimples and he had a second to register just how wicked her grin was before she said, "Takes a bit more than that to make me come, tough guy."  
There was a shout of laughter from the doorway and Eliot wondered just how much Harris had heard. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet. "How about later we find out just how much more?" he teased.  
"Oh like my life wasn't complicated enough?" Xander said as they approached him. "If you two start going at it like bunnies I’m never gonna get any peace am I…"   
Faith smiled warmly this time and linked arms with both men and headed out into the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Watchers' Council Headquarters, Cleveland. One month later

It was never quiet around here, not even in the dead of night. As a matter of fact, the dead of night was probably the worst time to sneak around. In fact, the only way to ensure a clear path was to create a diversion. The Fyarl's didn't know who employed them; he'd made sure of that, they just knew to attack at 7:47am. It would be carnage and, as he made his way down to the vault, he wondered briefly if he should have clued them in as to what - or rather who - they would be attacking. They never stood a chance against what was in essence the core body of Slayers. And since he'd arranged to pay them after the job was done, he wasn't even out of pocket.

He checked his watch as he reached the vault door - 7:49. That gave him just over ten minutes to get in and get out without being noticed. He allowed himself a small smirk of triumph. No problem.

As the vault door opened he couldn't hold back the gasp. The high-security room was filled to the brim with countless dangerous magical artefacts and grimoires. He could have a field day in here! He forced himself to focus. It only took him a minute to find the Palcha box Xander had sent back from Boston, after the idiot had wrecked his scheme. Well no one would be able to stop him this time. A simple spell and she would be entirely under his control; it was in her blood after all.

He tucked the surprisingly heavy box under his jacket and turned to leave.  
"What are you doing?" Damn! Since when did Slayers not run straight into the fight? And it would have to be one of Xander's finds. If he let her she'd go running straight to the fool and telling him everything. He had no choice. He had to stop her.  
"Inventory." He said as he reached for the weapon he had stashed in the waistband of his pants.   
"What? But no one should be here. An-" her eyes went wide and she stared at him in disbelief before crumpling to the ground. He tucked the gun back into his belt and shook his head a little sadly. They just never got it did they?

7:54. He had to get out of the vault and get the ritual done. He pulled the door closed behind him and didn't looked back.

Eliot Spencer's Apartment, Boston. 8am

He liked watching her sleep. Especially when she was sleeping curled up against him. It had been a long month and she still wasn't completely comfortable around the others no matter how much she protested. The upside of that was that she spent a _lot_ of time here and he had absolutely no complaints about that. But they really needed to sort this out - he was part of a team now and he needed to be there for them as well. Hopefully this morning would show her just how well she could fit in with them. If they got there in time.

Eliot stroked a finger up her bare arm and smiled as she groaned and shifted closer to him.   
"Hey there sleepyhead," he said, "time to get up."  
"Do I have to?" she mumbled, stretching like a contended cat as she did.  
"Yeah you do." Regretting it, he got out of bed and pulled the sheets off her.  
"You're no fun."  
"That's not what you were saying last night," he said teasing her. "I'm gonna grab a shower, you want me to put the coffee on first?"  
"How about I join you in the shower?"  
Damn she was such a tease, but they had to be over at Nate's in less than an hour. Eliot stood firm. "Coffee?" he repeated.  
Faith's head was buried in the pillow again, "Yeah, black and-"  
"And strong as I can make it. Think I got it by now." He frowned as a phantom itch burned on his arm.  
"Babe?" She was looking at him with something like worry in her eyes. "You ok?"  
He rubbed at his arm absently. "Yeah, it's just…" he stopped. Something was wrong, it was almost like a concussion, the whole room seemed to be slipping in and out of focus and he staggered back to the bed before he hit the floor.  
Faith was up in an instant, reaching for him but she stopped just short. He saw the worry change to shock as she looked at his arm. He glanced down, the cut had healed over quickly enough but now the scar it had left seemed to be glowing. He looked up to meet her gaze but she was looking down at herself with her hand pressed against her stomach. Gently he took her hand away and saw the faint scar she had there also glowing. He rocked back.

"What the hell?" he managed to say just as the blackness took over.

Watchers' Council Headquarters, Cleveland. 8:15am

With the ritual complete he blew out the last of the candles and sat back. Well that was an unexpected surprise. Still, maybe he could find some use for Spencer. The man was clearly a time-bomb with an unstable fuse. But explosives did have their uses after all.


End file.
